


Better Late Than Never

by definitely_a_textbook



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Everybody Lives, Found Family, Gen, MollymaukLivesFest, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitely_a_textbook/pseuds/definitely_a_textbook
Summary: Mollymauk woke up in his own grave for the second time, terrified with his limbs tangled in roots. He barely knew where he was or where to go, but he was lucky enough to have already known who he was and have found a note left for him in the folds of his shirt. After some deliberation, he decided on which direction he thought was south and started walking.-Day 9 of the Mollymauk Lives Fest. I've been really excited to participate, so here's my entry. Day 9: Found Family/Domestic-





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so excited to post this!  
> Btw, I'm definitely-a-textbook on tumblr.

Mollymauk was only half conscious when he realized his limps were trapped at his sides and breathing was nearly impossible. Panic set in before he could really process what was going on. He thrashed first, instinctually, his legs tangled in stiff tendrils, holding him in place, trapping him. His claws ripped through a fabric too thin to hold him and his hand breached the surface. He brought it down and clawed through loose dirt and grass.

It had happened again, he managed to think.

He pushed his other hand through.

Gods, it had happened again!

This time, he knew his way out. He’d done it before in harder dirt. He pushed himself up, pulling himself from the earth and blinking up at the sky at dawn. He coughed and hacked up what mud had found its way into his lungs. Molly pulled deep breath after deep breath into his body, shaking from the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, his heart pounding behind his ribcage.

His panic didn’t ebb as he assessed his surroundings. He was alone. Under the circumstances, Molly hadn’t expected anything different, but some hopeful part of him in the back of his mind had thought he would have pulled the group close enough that they wouldn’t just leave him.

He pulled himself out of the ground and onto his feet before stumbling forward and falling onto his knees. He looked down at himself. His body may have knit itself back together, but his clothes were in shambles. His shirt hung off him in tatters, yellowed and stained black down his front with old blood. His pants shared a similar fate, the colors faded to dull browns. His boots held up the best, but he couldn’t imagine a heel not snapping off sometime in the near future.

Mollymauk felt around him through what was left of his clothes and through his horns. His jewelry remained, rusted and muddy, most of it made of faux gold or silver and glass jewels. His coin purse was nowhere to be found and one of his scimitars, the most recent addition to his arsenal, the Summer’s Dance, was missing as well. Grave robbers, he thought, because where else had he been other than in another grave, would have taken everything. His teammates, his friends, he hoped, would probably have only taken what was necessary. Maybe that was a good sign.

He turned to look down the road not far from his grave. If they had buried him where he died, the two hills nearby confirming his suspicions, then he was still on Glory Run Road. He wasn’t certain which direction would lead him to Shady Creek, but he wasn’t certain it would matter anyway. Last he remembered, winter had just begun. Now, the gently rising sun provided the unmistakable warmth of late spring.

If he’d been dead, he loathed to think, for nearly two seasons, then the possibility of saving his friends had flown out the window a long time ago. He might have gotten lucky and saved Beau from the brutality he received, but he hadn’t been there to know for certain. He turned back around and was met with a colorful display of crimson and lilac flowers, standing tall or collapsed in on themselves amongst soft overturned mulch. The hole Molly had dug himself out of was a lot prettier than the last one. They’d even given him a grave marker, a small cross made of two tree branches, with a tilting sapling not far behind it. Upon closer inspection, Molly noticed careful, yet messing lettering across the horizontal branch: _Here Lies Someone Special – Mollymauk Tealeaf_.

Molly swallowed down whatever uneased was bubbling up his throat as he stood alone at yet another grave meant for the body he inhabited and replaced the feeling with gratitude. ‘Someone Special’, who wouldn’t smile at that?

It took him longer than what was probably necessary to realize that this body was still his, still Mollymauk’s. The name on the marker was the name of the person standing before it and Molly didn’t know how to process that. Lucien had died before and Molly had awoken in his place. This time, Molly had come back and he didn’t want to follow that train of thought longer than he had too. Mollymauk was alive and kicking. Now he just needed… What did he need?

His friends were gone and he was alone. He had weapons, two scimitars of carnival glass that he pulled from the overturned dirt and attached to his flimsy belt, but that was about it. Molly checked his pockets again. He’d kept most of his things in his jacket, but that beloved article of clothing was nowhere to be seen, so he was left with the missing coin purse that should have been attached to his belt and empty pants pockets. Molly felt something slip within the remaining folds of his shirt and reached in to grab for it.

He pulled out a folded piece of paper, damp with water and eaten at the edges by time or decay. Molly tugged at the edges carefully, afraid to tear it apart. After unfolding it, he was met with runny ink and cursive lettering. Molly frowned and narrowed his eyes as if squinting would help him read. Plain handwriting was hard enough to read without the unnecessary flourishes of cursive and, even worse, the wettest spots were completely illegible. However, after a few moments, Molly began to recognize Caleb’s handwriting, wobbly but familiar, as if his hands were shaking as he wrote it.

Molly sat down to read the letter, putting forth as much energy as he could to remembering the basics Gustav had taught him his first year alive. During that time, cursive had been the bane of his short existence.

 _Dear Mollymauk_ , the letter read, _we are sorry… Leaving was not… and we must move before… You may not remember who you are or who we… Your name… leaf. You have risen from the grave before. If you are reading this you… it again. To find us, travel south to Zadash… Evening Nip and ask for the Gentleman. we hope to see you again._

_From Caleb_

_Beau_

_and Nott_

Enough of the letter remained reasonably legible for Molly to read. The second spelling of his name was smudged and indecipherable and he let himself chuckle. If he had no memories, he would have been immensely confused.

In the time it took to read the letter, sunrise had given way to morning. After a moment of thought, Molly remembered that the sun rose in the East. He stood and turned toward what he believed to be South, gave one last glance at the grave turned garden that he had destroyed unaware and began to stumble down the dirt road, his legs buckling every few steps like a newborn fawn. He hadn’t missed this.

As though he had predicted it, the heel of Molly’s left boot snapped off a few miles down the road. Maybe it had gotten stuck on a rock or an indent in the road, but the heel came off, sending him tumbling forward into the dirt, scrapping his palms and knees. “Dammit,” he hissed and rolled over onto his backside.

His boot looked just about as bad as he’d thought it would. The heel had pulled off a large section of sole along with it, dangling from where it was still attached. He sighed in frustration and pulled the boot off. His legs hurt. His head hurt. He was unbelievably tired. He hadn’t even walked that far, but he was already sick of the idea of taking another step. So, he sat there, frustrated and exhausted, running his thumb on the dry parts of the letter they’d left with him, tracing the letters Caleb’s trembling hand had written.

Molly didn’t know what to think or what to do. Obviously, his friends hadn’t thought he’d remember who he was and were kind enough to leave a note to remind him. He did love being himself after all. The remaining three he’d left behind for his quick stint in the afterlife were alive or had, at least, lived through Lorenzo’s attack long enough to bury him. He didn’t want to imagine the carnage that could have followed if they had tried to fight again.

Part of him hoped they’d tried again, even with their newfound knowledge of how dangerous Lorenzo was. Molly had faced death again to save what remained of the family he had tried to recreate and force together and he very easily may have lost it again because they would have had to fight without him. He needed to get to Zadash and speak to the Gentleman. If they’d all returned intact, or if they’d returned at all, he’d know after speaking with him.

Molly needed to know Yasha was okay. He needed to know that Nott had gotten away from the cages, that he’d taken the brunt of whatever harm Beau would have received, that they’d found Fjord, Jester, and the best friend he’d had since waking the first time, that Caleb had managed to stay alive.

Molly sat on the side of the road, sulking in the midday heat.

The sun beat down the longer he sat there, but he didn’t want to stand up and walking wouldn’t make the air around him any cooler. Eventually, the clattering of wheels met his ears as a cart crept up on him from the road. Molly looked up and stood up to make sure he was out of the way, but the cart slowed down as it reached him.

“Afternoon,” Molly greeted with the best smile he had, hopefully as far from the grin of a used cart salesman as he could get.

A woman, a human, from the cart smiled back as they stopped, a mix of concern and hesitation in her eyes. “Afternoon,” she replied, edging toward the side of the cart to look down at him, “Are you alright?”

“We’re not picking up hitchhikers, Minerva. Look at ‘im,” whispered the man holding the reins, “Think of the kids.”

Molly hearing the man speak, glanced over to the back of the cart, where two kids peaked over the side, covering in a thin sheet to keep the sun off. He smiled at them and gave a little wave.

“This isn’t a good place to be stopping by strangers. We can’t just trust-,”

“I just want to know-,” The woman turned back toward him, “You look a bit run down. Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Molly said, almost immediately regretting it.

“Are you sure? You really are a bit of a mess… Are you alone?”

At this, the man began to watch the immediate area, glancing around as discretely as possible. He was distrustful of him and Molly didn’t blame him. Using the Glory Run Road as a shortcut would leave anyone anxious.

“I’m…” Molly paused before nodding. He needed all the help he could get. “I was separated from my friends. We had a merchant job. We were robbed.” The lies slip passed his lips, settling on his back like a comfortable old coat. “T-The carts gone. My friends are gone. I woke up on the side of the road, without my coin purse. All I’ve got are these cheap swords and these fake bobbles.” He tilted his head to demonstrate, but the jewelry on his horns didn’t make a sound; too dusted with dirt to properly jingle how he liked. He kept the swords visible on his belt, showing them all he had and that he wasn’t going to surprise them with anything.

“Alright,” the woman, Minerva, turned to her traveling companion, who shrugged, and then back to Mollymauk, “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m actually, this sounds stupid,” Molly chuckled, fake, but hopefully convincing, “I’m trying to find my way to Zadash. A while back, my friends and I came up with an idea that if we ever got separated, left alone, we’d go home, to Zadash.”

“We’re going to Zadash!” announced one of the small children, excitedly slipping out from under their protection from the sun or prying eyes.

“Are you?” Molly asked, unable to withhold his genuine surprise and elation.

“No,” the man shook his head, refusing to look at Molly, keeping his line of sight ahead on the road. That was fair. A strange lavender devil standing on the side of the road was not a welcoming sight.

“Honey, please,” Minerva pushed his shoulder, “Look at him. He can’t walk all the way to Zadash.” Minerva, a tenderhearted fool. Maybe his luck was turning.

Mollymauk adjusted his stance, subtly attempting to show off his broken boot heel.

“We are traveling for a reason-”

Molly cut in before the bickering could continue, reaching for the cards he no longer had, before placing his hands into his pockets instead. “A reason? You know, I can tell fortunes. Could we trade? I would offer money if I still had any, but will a few fortunes suffice?”

“A fortune?” Minerva smiled and watched him expectantly, “Please.”

He noticed the state of their clothes and the items they had with them. A family traveling close to Shady Creek, though strangely eager to help, were probably hoping to find a better life somewhere new. “You’ve been down on your luck for a while. You’re looking to find a better life in Zadash.”

“Anyone could assume that,” the man (Minerva’s husband?) interrupted gruffly, “None of it’s real.”

Minerva nudged him again, “Hush, my grandmother could tell fortunes. It’s real.”

Her belief in him made Molly’s gut clench. He couldn’t tell fortunes without his cards. Cold readings were a specialty of his, but without his cards, he could only bullshit his way through it. “May I see your hand?” Mollymauk held out his palm. Minerva offered hers in return. He’d never read a palm before, but he’d could probably bullshit his way through it. “You’re from… the outskirts of Shady Creek?”

“Yes,” Minerva nodded, “From the little shanty towns outside.”

He caressed the lines of her palm with his thumb. “You didn’t belong there. You didn’t want to be there, but you were trapped and afraid, so close to a town so lawless.”

Minerva nodded again.

“You’ve gotten just enough to make the move…” He smiled up at her, “You’ll do just fine in Zadash. You’ll both find work.” Molly had recognized the sturdy work boots on the man’s feet he’d seen on laborers in nearly every town he went to and Minerva’s hands were made for sewing. He would see a few fresh pricks from a sewing needle along with a half-formed dress hidden poorly beneath the sheet. “I see…” Molly closed his eyes for a moment, pausing for a long while to make that act more believable, “I see someone has an opening for an assistant at a tailor’s. You’ll get the job.”

Of course, Minerva latched onto what Molly had ‘predicted’ and convinced her husband, Charles, to allow him to come with them.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service,” Molly said, kissing the back of Minerva’s hand before he offered it back to her.

“That’s how they get ya’,” Charles muttered, “We didn’t even all agree to the trade and yet…”

Mollymauk climbed into the back with a little less grace than he would have liked. The children beside him stared and Molly wasn’t certain which part of him was so enthralling. When he attempted to meet their gazes, wondering to himself what sort of trick he could attempt to get on their good sides, the little boy spoke up. He pointed at Molly’s exposed chest and bluntly asked, “What happened to you?”

Minerva turned around to face the (her?) child and said, “We don’t ask questions like that, sweetheart.” She looked to Molly and apologized for her son’s curiosity.

“No, no,” Molly shook his head, laying on the charm, “I didn’t find it rude at all.” He smiled deviously down at Minerva’s boy, as if he was about to share a secret, “And I can tell you what happened. You want to know about my scar? This one?” Molly pointed to the large, jagged, discolored scar that covered most of his sternum. When Molly had awoken, the wound had already healed similarly to his self-inflict wounds, but this particular scar was not something a person lived to talk about. It looked wrong in every sense of the word and merely acknowledging its existence sent a shiver down his spine.

He shouldn’t be alive.

“I used to be part of a circus,” Molly began. Half truths always made lies a little more believable. You just had to trick your body into believing it was the truth. “I needed an act, so I practiced juggling fake swords. I thought I was ready for the real deal when I wasn’t. Kept dropping ‘em and getting myself hurt.” He tapped the center of his chest, “Until I _really_ hurt myself. You shouldn’t play with swords, kids.”

The children eyed his swords with wonderment and fear. They were young and the lie was simple to suit their needs. If they were a few years older they might have taken his story with a grain of salt, but for now, they believed him wholeheartedly. The two adults in the cart sent pitying looks his way, not truly believing him, but unwilling to inquire further.

Molly spent most of the remainder of the afternoon entertaining the children, juggling items they handed him and telling stories. At one point he’d even unhooked one of his charms, a simple bobble with a fake pearl in the center, discreetly pulled out the pearl, and pretended to notice something behind the older girl’s ear. With a slight flourish, he convinced the two of them that he’d found it in her ear and the two siblings spent a good part of an hour attempting to find more.

Once they were distracted, Minerva offered to see what she could do for his boot heel. All she had was a simple paste she used to glue fabric together, but there was a chance it could hold up for a day or two on the paved streets of Zadash. He let her take his boot, glad to have her help. She had even been so kind as to give him one of her husband’s old shirts, with the man’s permission, to replace the one practically falling off of him.

Within the hour, Molly found himself drifting off and falling asleep. He spent the two-week trip to Zadash like that, attempting to be entertaining and offering to help with whatever he could to make up for his lack of funds. He opted to stay up most nights and keep watch for the family and tried to sleep during the day. They thankfully had very few interactions with anything or anyone on the road, but Mollymauk remained on high alert nonetheless. 

He had been attempting to rest after an entire night not sleeping when he’d been shaken awake by tiny hands and loud voices.

“Mr. Tealeaf! We’re here!” The high pitch squealing of children had unfortunately never been Molly’s favorite sound, especially when it was directly in his ear.

He sat up and was greeted by a much more mundane Zadash. The streets were remarkably ordinary after Molly’s first experience. It was strange witnessing Zadash without a festival to attend or the slow return to everyday life directly after the festivities. Everyday Zadash was strange to witness.

“This is where we leave you,” Charles said, nearing the closest inn to the front gates.

“There was a tailor’s not far from here,” Minerva beamed, “They had a sign in the window. I think you were right, Mollymauk.”

“Ah, well, I’m glad to hear it,” Molly said, climbing out of their cart. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me come along with you.”

“It wasn’t a bother at all,” Minerva said, waving away his concerns, but Molly wasn’t entirely convinced that was true. He smiled all the same and waved to them as they rode away. Their children waved enthusiastically from the back long after their parents had turned around. Once they were out of sight, Molly began walking.

\---

The Evening Nip seemed as run down on the outside as it had when he’d first walked into the establishment an unknown amount of time ago. He was careful to avoid any familiar faces when he was granted access downstairs. Cree, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen and Mollymauk, after asking around for a few minutes, was graced with the Gentleman’s presence.

“The Mighty Nein?” the Gentleman asked, taking a sip of his drink and raising a curious eyebrow, “I haven’t heard from them in… a year, perhaps?”

“A year?” Mollymauk could almost feel his infernal blood run cold. He finally allowed himself to think the worst; to think that maybe after his demise, they weren’t able to save the others, that what remained of their little group had buried him and run away. Caleb and Nott always seemed on the verge of taking off and Beau seemed to have bigger things on her mind. They didn’t even know Keg, but… no. No, that wasn’t right, because they had left him that note. They clearly had some intention of staying alive.

“Cree could find them for you, but I must say,” the Gentleman leaned forward, his grin cocking to one side, “We were all under the impression that you had died over two years ago.”

Molly blinked, baffled. 

Had it really had been two years?

“Playing the long con, have we?”

“No,” Mollymauk said, shaking his head to deny it before he could think better of it and make up some bullshit to cover for his absence, “I just… I need to get back to them.”

“Well…” the Gentleman leaned back, seemingly disappointed in Mollymauk’s lack of answer, “I could bring Cree out to-,” He began to motion for one of his lackeys to fetch the Tabaxi in question, but Mollymauk quickly interjected.

“Actually…” his mind raced to find a reason why he couldn’t speak with her, why he couldn’t even be in the same room as her, “It’s for the best Cree not know I’m here. Strictly secret business with the Nein.”

The Gentleman eyed him skeptically and Mollymauk knew he’d been caught in a lie. Surprisingly, the Gentleman simply shrugged and motioned for his lackey to stand by his side. Inspecting his fingernails, he said, “Tell Cree to locate…” He glanced back up at Molly, a question left unsaid.

“Yasha,” Molly answered instantly.

“Yasha of the Mighty Nein, please. I don’t want to see Cree. Just tell me what she says.”

The Gentleman’s lackey ran off to do as they were told and Molly was left alone with him with nothing left to say. He sipped his drink until they returned.

“Nicodranas,” they said, “Her last known whereabouts were Nicodranas.”

“Well, there you have it,” the Gentleman said with a smile, holding out his hands before shooing him away, “I assume that’ll be all.”

“Is there any way…?” Molly was certain he was pushing his luck, but he committed to his mistakes, “Is there anything I could do to get some transportation?”

The Gentleman frowned. He leaned in and lowered his voice, “You escaped my reach for two years. You’re lucky you’re even still sitting here.”

“Yes sir,” Molly stood up from his seat. It had been stupid to ask. “Thank you for your time.”

The Gentleman’s smile returned as he leaned back. Looking up at Molly and offering him a slight nod in goodbye, “It’s been a pleasure, Mollymauk.”

Molly left, careful to watch his surroundings, just in case.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he stole a horse that night.

Nott would have been proud of how easily he snuck into the stable. No one noticed him enter or exit with a horse that didn’t belong to him. Still, it took him a little longer than he would have liked. It was just that most horses were attached individually to carts. He didn’t want to leave hardworking people without transportation. Eventually, he crept up beside a horse that seemed to be part of a group of three.

“They won’t need all three of you,” Molly whispered aloud and carefully reached up to stroke the nose of the horse closest to him. Its large, dark eyes watched him as he untied the reins from one of the stall pillars and quietly unhooked the stall door. He coaxed the horse out of the stable and silently rode away into the night.

His trip south was frustrating at best and excruciating at worst. The map that had been tucked away in the saddle of the horse he’d stolen was as helpful as it could be for a man who had trouble reading other people’s handwriting (or reading in general).

He rode through Afield without stopping, but when he realized Trostenwald was his next stop he was enticed by the idea of seeing Gustav again. He asked around, earning him a few confused looks and disinterested shrugs, before someone, a guard, finally gave him an answer. Gustav had left just about two years ago, a large enough portion of his debt paid by a group of travelers who had brought the unfortunate news that a family member had passed away. 

Gustav wasn’t there and no one knew where he’d gone once he was free. Molly got back on his stolen horse, desperately trying to keep himself from feeling disappointed, and continued on his way.

\---

Mollymauk was jolted awake by soft voice in his ear. He sat up straighter on his horse, the exhaustion that had plagued him moments before evacuating his system as he frantically searched for the source. His sleep addled brain eventually realized that the voice was not coming from his immediate vicinity, but instead from inside his head. He recognized the voice and he almost broke down into tears.

“ _Hello Molly_ ,” the voice in his head murmured. “ _I haven’t talked to you in a while. I’ve been using all my spells for other things and today wasn’t any different. I_ -,” The message cut off and Molly nearly jumped at the chance to respond, but his words were caught in his throat.

It was Jester’s voice. He could hear Jester’s voice!

“- _have some energy left today, so I decided to use Sending ‘cuz it’s easy. Today was a good day. It was fun, but I had-_ ,”

Molly attempted to blink back the tears pooling in his eyes, but his attempts only sent those tears streaming down his cheeks.

“- _Caleb change my room a bit. I thought he’d be annoyed, but he never is! Oops, anyway, it’s night time and I can’t talk long._ ”

Molly didn’t remember how he was supposed to respond to these messages or if he even could. Jester, although she might have been deliberately paused for a few seconds by her spell’s rules, continued to chatter on as if there had been no pause at all. Jester had never sent a message to Molly before. There had never been a need and when there had been, he hadn’t thought she could. Caleb had said a person needed their hands to cast spells when Molly, during a rushed dinner, had asked why Jester hadn’t contacted them the first night after she, Fjord, and Yasha had been taken. Jester’s hands had most likely been bound to prevent spellcasting.

“ _This is my last one. I just wanted to say good night and_ ,” she sighed, “ _say… that I hope… that you’re happy wherever you are and… sleep well._ ”

“Jester,” Molly wheezed, finally finding his voice, wobbly with tears. He hoped she could hear him. “Jester, I don’t know how this works. It’s twenty-five… Shit. Where are you? Where can I find you? Jester? Jester, are you there? I’m here! I’m alive! Jester?”

Molly hadn’t been sure if he’d gone over the maximum word count for Jester’s spell, but it wouldn’t matter if he had responded incorrectly. He racked his brain for every example he had of Jester using this particular spell, but he cursed himself and his own constant inattentiveness. He didn’t remember ever asking in-depth questions about his friends’ own brands of magic. He had always been too preoccupied with his own. He hadn’t thought he’d need to know more than just _what_ they could all do. In hindsight, he felt like a bit of an idiot.

He waited for a few excruciatingly long minutes, his horse sluggishly trotting onward. He didn’t hear Jester’s voice again; not after he found a secluded place to hide himself and his horse near an outcropping of rocks, not when he curled up on the ground to go to sleep, staring up at the moons overhead, and not when he was jolted awake by a far more unfriendly presence and was forced to skewer a large, aggressive catlike creature he had the misfortune of sleeping near the den of.

At dawn, he climbed onto his horse again, unable to sleep most of the night, and continued to Nicodranas.

\---

Nicodranas was more beautiful than he’d ever expected. He’d never traveled this far south. He’d never seen the ocean or seen the waves lap against pure white sand. He’d never smelt salt water in the air or heard seagulls call. It really was a shame he couldn’t take the time to enjoy it.

Molly kept riding past, passing by more people as he found his way deeper into the city. He received smiles and hellos from a few strangers as he passed by and he happily returned them, even if the clawing in his gut made him want to respond otherwise.

He wasn’t all that sure of what to do now. He’d made it to Nicodranas. The Gentleman had told him that this was where Yasha would be, but Molly had no idea of where to look.

Jester’s messages from the night before were still fresh in his mind, comforting him and mocking him, all the same. Jester hadn’t responded to him and all Molly could think was that Jester hadn’t heard him at all. Why she had been sending him messages in the first place was a thought that crossed his mind once or twice, but he had no concrete answer for it.

For a moment, he passed by a bakery and remembered Jester mentioning pastries in Nicodranas were made with cinnamon. The smell called to him and the rumbling in his stomach agreed, but he still had no money. The best he’d been able to do was mooching off of those willing enough to give what they had and stabbing birds and rabbits to roast when the poor creatures least suspected it. He wasn’t going to be eating baked goods anytime soon if he planned to keep further stealing to a minimum.

He pushed past the bakery, ignoring his stomach and trying his best not to scowl.

Molly very quickly found himself lost. He came to a stop near a rocky path on a beach, one of the many beaches it seemed. He climbed off his horse to give himself a well-deserved break and stretch his terribly sore limbs. Molly eventually sat down to watch the waves break against the rocks.

He was contemplating jumping into the water fully clothed to get away from the heat and remove the dirt and grime that had clung to him since waking up in his second grave. He must have smelled abysmal. He hadn’t had a good bath in so long.

He had nearly gotten to his feet when he felt the base of his skull tingle and heard a voice echo in his ear.

“ _Hello? This is Jester. I’m going to ask a question. You can respond to this message… What is your name and… where are you?_ ”

Molly flinched when he heard her voice, spine going ramrod straight as he stood up. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. She said he could reply. This had to work. “My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. I’m not Lucian or… What was it? Nonagon? I’m in Nicodranas on a rocky beach…” -How many words had that been?- “I’m looking for you.”

Molly hated waiting. He had never been a very patient person and the silence he was once again presented with frayed his already threadbare nerves. The crashing of waves and the light clopping of his tired horse’s hooves as it adjusted its footing were the only sounds he could hear in around him.

“Dammit!” Molly grabbed a rock and threw it as hard as he could. The stone bounced against a few rocks in the distance and flipped into the sea foam. In his continued frustration, Molly kicked at the path beneath his feet. The loose stone the made up most of the road didn’t take kindly to being disturbed and tumbled away, leaving Molly without a sure foothold and tumbling backward onto the ground. “Oof! Gods… Jester? Anyone?! Don’t leave me here alone!”

“ _Guys! I already cast it! Stop freaking out! I- Molly?_ ” Jester sounded nearly close to tears, but the smile in her voice was unmistakable, “ _There’s a big brown door on the beach south of the city. I think the-_ ”

A moment passed and Jester’s voice returned. “ _Sorry! Everyone was interrupting me before. You’re on the little rocky beach to the west, I think. Find a path… or maybe we’ll go find-_ ”

“No! No, I’ll find you!” Molly pushed himself back up onto his feet, smiling wider than he had in a long time. “It’ll be easier if you give me directions. You know where you are. It’ll be easier to find you.”

“ _Oh my gosh! Okay, okay, stick to a road or find one. Go south! If you’re going the right way you should see houses. If-_ ” Another pause before Jester’s voice came back. “ _you’re going the wrong way, you’ll be back in the city. The sand is pretty and really white. Look for a door by a cliff.”_

“Just a door?” Molly asked. He must have looked like a crazy person talking to the air to anyone who happened to pass by. 

“ _Just a door. It’s light brown. It’s standing alone on the beach by a cliff face. It’s just a door, by itself._ ” 

“Okay!” Molly said with a nod. He turned back toward his horse and climbed on. The horse’s mild protests went ignored. “I’m on my way.” 

Molly continued to the south, dead set on finding that door. He hadn’t quite understood why he needed to be looking for a door. He didn’t understand why they had just placed a door in the middle of a beach, but if that was the marker he was looking for, he wasn’t going to complain. A door in the middle of nowhere would be easy to see. 

\--- 

The door itself was just like Molly had pictured it. It was just a door, nothing else, standing near the face of a cliff on a sandy, white beach. He jumped off his horse and rushed to it. Standing beside it, it was difficult for Molly not to notice how tall it was, like someone far taller than him could comfortably enter without bending down. There was nothing and no one else around. It didn’t make sense to send him there if they weren’t going to be there to greet him, so Molly decided to believe that magic had to be involved. With nothing else to do and the lack of a better idea, Molly knocked on the door. 

A moment passed before the door slowly creaked open and a face peeked out. Molly had to look up to actually look them in the eye. He was immediately concerned he had stumbled upon the wrong door on the wrong sandy, white beach. 

“Who is it?” they asked, a deep timber settling in Molly’s bones. 

"Mollymauk… a friend… of the Mighty Nein,” he offered. 

The door opened wider, revealing a grey firbolg with a shock of pink hair. The only firbolgs Molly had ever come in contact with were Pumat Sol, Jumnda, and the little boy she had with her. None of them had looked so interesting. “This is just wonderful,” they drawled while smiling warmly down at him, “Certainly confusing, but wonderful. Please, come in.” They ushered Molly inside with a large flat hand between his shoulder blades. 

“I’m sorry, but…” Molly flinched as he stepped through the threshold, suddenly entering an extravagant foyer, decorated with the warm glow of candlelight and magical trophies adorning the walls. He turned to look behind him. He could still see the ocean through the open door. “…who… are…?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the firbolg shut the door behind them, “I’m Caduceus Clay and it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mollymauk. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“You have?” Molly managed to get out as Caduceus pushed him carefully into what could only have been a sitting room. 

"Molly!” Jester’s voice cried out as they entered. 

He was immediately surrounded. 

Yasha had gotten to him first and wrapped Mollymauk tightly in her large, pale arms. When he shifted to place his feet back on the ground, she held him tighter, to the point of possibly collapsing a lung. “Molly,” she whimpered, crying softly into his shoulder. He could feel her tears seeping into his shirt and the sensation of being held by her again had him sobbing along with her. 

"You’re back,” Yasha sobbed, “You came back!” 

“How are you back?” Molly leaned over Yasha’s shoulder to see where Nott’s voice had come from. She hovered beside them alongside the rest of their group of friends, her fist closed around his pant leg. 

“I…” Molly blinked passed his tears, chuckling humorlessly and leaning into Yasha, “I woke up in a grave.” 

Yasha held on tighter and now Molly was definitely struggling to breathe. 

“Gods, Molly. We’re so sorry,” Beau placed a hand on his shoulder, “We didn’t know what else to do.” 

“You died,” Caleb continued, emotion muddling his voice, he matched Beau’s comforting gesture on the other shoulder. 

“I know,” Molly coughed, “I perfectly understand.” He aggressively remembered how he’d died this time around. He remembered Lorenzo’s hulking frame standing over him, the flames still flickering over his armor, the glaive hovering over him before sinking down, piercing and crunching through his sternum. He wouldn’t have been able to speak if he’d wanted to. Instead, he tried to be brave in the face of his own demise and spat blood in Lorenzo’s heinous face. Just before the pain of breathing had become too much, everything had just stopped. Molly felt like there had been something afterward, an afterlife perhaps, but the next thing he truly remembered was bursting out of the ground surrounded by flowers. 

Molly frantically patted Yasha’s forearm. “Yasha, darling, I love this, but if you don’t loosen up, I might just pass out.” 

Yasha immediately let go. Molly, standing on his own again, gasped for air. “I’m sorry,” Yasha apologized and smoothed out his shirt for him, “I’m so sorry.” 

“I want a hug too,” Jester whined, pushing herself through their group and wrapping her arms around him. She rest her head on his shoulder and rocked them both back and forth. “I can’t believe it. You have to tell us where you’ve been!” She pulled back, scrunching her nose and pretending to cough. “Ugh, you smell terrible! Like, worse than Caleb _ever_ did.” 

Molly laughed, a hearty laugh that made his friends look at him like he hung the moon. It was startling, but heartwarming at the same time. “I haven’t had a bath in over two weeks,” he said once he’d caught his breath. 

_Or, more like two years_ , he thought to himself, but left it unsaid. 

“We can fix that,” Jester said, letting him go and looking him up and down, watching him as if he’d disintegrate before her eyes. 

“I would love a bath,” Mollymauk sighed, relieved by the idea of actually getting clean, but the growling deep in stomach made him feel sick, “but I haven’t eaten in-” 

“You haven’t eaten?!” Jester asked, shocked and tugging him toward another door, the rest of their group pushing him along and sticking as close to him as they could without it seeming strange. They entered the kitchen, the room smelled of freshly baked bread, cooked meats, and jams. It smelled like breakfast. 

“I’ve never been this hungry,” Molly said, pushed into a dining room chair and presented a plate crowded with cook vegetables, strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and slices of toast. This was more food than he’d seen in any of the more expensive inns that had been fortunate enough and temporarily wealthy enough to order food in. 

“Where’d you get all this?” He asked, astonished enough to widen his eyes at the sight, but not enough to not start eating it before he received an answer. 

“Magic,” Nott answered, “Caleb made it.” 

“Clay made it,” Caleb corrected, with a bashful chuckle, “I made the ingredients. Clay cooked the food.” 

Mollmauk shoveled a few forkfuls of eggs and bacon into his mouth, probably a little too fast for his own good. He would have had a hard time believing food made from magic was real if he hadn’t already tasted it. “This is…” he started saying with his mouth full. He swallowed before he had a chance to choke and coughed to clear his lungs. “This is really good.” 

“Thank you,” Caduceus smiled softly down at him and placed a teacup down beside his plate. Molly watched him steadily pour steaming tea into the cup, still eating until he felt his fork clink against the tabletop. Molly glanced over and found that Fjord had moved his plate away, a concerned look across his face. 

Molly frowned and grabbed for his plate back. “What…?" 

“When was the last time you ate?” Fjord asked. 

Molly thought back on it, pulling his plate back toward him. Fjord relinquished it without protest, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off Molly. “If you’ve gotta think about it, that’s probably not a good sign.” 

“Maybe… yesterday morning? I caught a rabbit.” 

“Alright,” Fjord sighed, offering him an apologetic smile, “I was worried you hadn’t eaten for days, which would mean you’d need smaller portions. Slow down though. I don’t want you makin’ yourself sick.” 

Mollymauk nodded and reached for the tea Caduceus had poured for him. He took a break from eating to sip his drink and he took the time to take in the people around him. The Mighty Nein had changed. Fjord’s tucks had completely grown out, pushing past his lower lip and completing his once incomplete smile. He was more relaxed than he ever had been. Jester had added more jewelry to her horns. They dangled and glimmered a lot like his had before they’d dulled and rusted. Her smile seemed just as bright as it had always been, but her eyes had some wisdom hidden behind them. Nott wore finer clothes, her hair neatly braided, and had clearly begun to take better care of herself. She didn’t seem as skittish as Mollymauk remembered and her flask was nowhere in sight. Beau’s smile had gone from chilling to warm. She leaned against Caleb’s side, standing beside where he sat, her arm resting on his shoulder and her cheek pressed into the top of his head. Molly could never have imagined either of them sitting so close, let alone leaning against one another so openly. It reminded him a lot of him and Yasha. Caleb had managed to put on a few pounds and had maintained a far healthier weight since Mollymauk had last seen him. He was surprisingly clean and he had even shaved. Yasha had seemingly changed the least and yet, the longer he watched her, the longer he noticed how she carried herself around them. She had once been so closed off around the others, but now, it was like she had found herself a home among them. 

Mollymauk felt a pang in his chest. 

“Caduceus?” Beau asked, picked her head up, “Which tea is that?” 

Caduceus barely looked up from where he was pouring cups for the rest of them. “Hmm? Oh, it’s Mollymauk.” 

“What?” Molly asked, taking another sip and watching his friends’ looked at Caduceus like he’d done something extremely distasteful. 

“It’s made from the flowers that grew from your grave.” Caduceus began to hand out cups as if he’d said the most normal thing in the world. 

Molly choked on his tea. He placed the cup down hard and coughed, pounding his chest with his fist. Fjord, the closest to him in the moment, rubbed and pat his back to help him clear his lungs. 

“Oh Gods,” Molly coughed. 

“Let’s just…” Jester said, grabbing his cup and moving it away. 

Molly reached out for it. “No, no, I’m fine.” He placed his hand on hers and stopped her. “It’s delicious,” he told them, truthfully. It really did taste good, it’s origin aside. 

“So,” he said, glancing toward Caduceus who simply continued to smile, “I feel like I have no clue who you are. When did you join up with these assholes?” 

Caduceus chuckled and nodded, “I used to live in a graveyard in the forest near Shady Creek. I go back there occasionally to check on the place and the friends we asked to continue to watch it. Our friends came to find me after you had passed. I’ve been with them ever since.” 

“Oh wow,” Molly chuckled, “You lot replaced me pretty quickly, huh?” 

He didn’t receive the reaction he had intended with his little joke. His friends moved forward as if they all wanted to reach out to him at once. They spoke over each other, desperate to let him know that they had never had any intention of replacing him and that Caduceus definitely was _not_ his replacement. 

“We needed a healer,” Nott explained. 

“We were looking for someone who could raise the dead,” Caleb added, “but at the time…” 

“Caduceus couldn’t revive people, it was practically unheard of to begin with back then, and when we got Jester back it was too late. We didn’t even have diamonds,” Beau said. 

“I was…” Molly laughed awkwardly, “I was joking. I didn’t really think…” He had, though. In the back of his mind, he new Caduceus had replaced him and that was alright. The way they looked at Caduceus, the way they looked at each other, it was exactly what he had hoped he could recreate within the Mighty Nein, but he’d never gotten the chance. He had tried to force it. He had tried to get them to trust him and to treat him and each other like the circus had, but then he’d died. 

Molly pushed his half-eaten plate of food away, suddenly understanding why Fjord hadn’t wanted him to eat so much so quickly. “I think I’d like that bath now.” 

\--- 

The bath they had directed him to was large and clouded with steam that didn’t nearly feel as stifling as Molly thought it should. They had closed the door behind him, leaving him alone to undress and bathe. He did just that, tossing his shirt and pants aside. He grabbed a few bars of different smelling soaps before slipping into the heat of the bath. The water was a perfect temperature, hot enough to sooth the aches in his muscles, but not hot enough to scald him. 

He sank into the water up to his chin and closed his eyes. The bath was far too big for one person. It had the appearance of a bathhouse in Zadash. He recognized some elements, but other parts felt foreign and new. His surroundings were both comfortingly familiar and disconcerting different. It only helped to amplify how alone he felt. 

Mollymauk couldn’t stop thinking about everything he’d missed and how everyone had changed. They had grown without him. They had moved on. They had come together without him and he wasn’t sure he even belonged with them anymore. He’d been so eager to get back to them before, but now he wasn’t certain if there was still a place for him or if there ever had been. Molly could feel that Mighty Nein belonged together. Yasha… Yasha belonged with the Mighty Nein. What about him? 

He sank farther into the water, covering his nose and mouth. He sighed, blowing bubbles into the steaming water. 

A moment later, there was a knock on the door and Molly sat up. “Yeah?” 

“Can I come in?” Yasha voice asked him from behind the door. 

“Absolutely!” 

Yasha entered with a bundle of clothes in her arms. “This is for you,” she said, setting them down on a bench by the door. “Caleb and Fjord had a few extra things that we think will fit you.” 

“Oh, good,” Mollymauk said, gesturing toward his ruined clothes, “because I don’t think those pants will hold up after a wash.” 

Yasha picked up his discarded clothes from the floor to examine them. “Yeah, probably not,” she agreed, folded them, and set them down in a basket Mollymauk had missed before. “Do you mind if I stay?” 

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Molly said, relieved she wasn’t just going to leave him. 

Yasha undressed and joined him in the bath. She grabbed a bar of soap from where Molly had placed the ones he liked. “I’d like to wash your hair,” she said and Molly nodded. He turned away from her and hummed contently when he felt her fingers in his hair. He’d missed this. He’d missed feeling this close to someone. He’d missed having someone he could call his family. 

"You’ve been so quiet,” Yasha murmured. “Is there something… Is there something on your mind?” 

“…You seem so happy,” Mollymauk whispered, not realizing he was saying it aloud. 

“Hmm?” Yasha hummed, scrapping her nails over his horns. “I am. Things have finally calmed down… You came back.” 

Molly chuckled weakly, “A little late, though. You’ve all gotten so close.” 

Yasha nodded. Molly barely caught it in their misty reflections in the water. “You know... I think we have. We’re all so happy to have you back.” She paused in washing his hair to carefully hug him, trying her best to be less forceful than the last time. 

“Really?” he asked, not certain if he believed her. “It’s been so long for you.” 

“Sure,” Yasha pat his shoulder to let him know to dunk his head under the water. Molly sank beneath the surface and washed the soap from his hair and horns. When he resurfaced and wiped the water from his face, Yasha continued. “They’re all a little uncertain about what to do. They know you only knew them for a few months. They don’t want to overstep or freak you out.” 

“They couldn’t if they tried,” Molly replied honestly, “I’d love to be close to them.” _Caduceus included_ , he thought. Caduceus seemed… interesting. He seemed nice. 

Yasha smiled, “That’s what I told them.” 

\--- 

Mollymauk fiddled with his jewelry and the rusted chains he’d had in his horns. Yasha had told him to not put them back in. They’d need to clean them before he tried. Molly stuffed his jewelry into his pants pocket. The clothes he had been given were a little plain for his tastes, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

Yasha led him around the mansion. He was baffled by the layout and the fact that it didn’t exist outside the front door left him disoriented without Yasha’s help. She led him back into the sitting room where their friends were waiting and talking. 

The group welcomed the two of them back with smiles and offers of tea. The two of them sat side by side in a plush chair barely big enough for the two of them. 

Mollymauk sniffed the tea he was offered. “This isn’t still tea from my grave, is it?” 

“No,” Caduceus said with a deep chuckle. “It’s just chamomile. I bought it when we were running low once. Not my favorite, but it’ll do.” 

He nodded and took a sip. 

Caduceus distractedly mumbled to himself under his breath once he was no longer being spoken to. 

“What are you thinking about, Caduceus?” Fjord asked with a sort of ease that came with knowing someone for a while. 

He shrugged, “Just thinking about what we’d like to do with what we have left from Mollymauk’s grave. There won’t be any more of it to pick once we run out.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Beau said, reaching over and heavily patting Molly on knee, “We’ve got this guy back. The tea can fuck itself.” 

“I saw that, uh, that garden,” Mollymauk said, “I sort of… dug it up.” 

“That’s alright,” Caduceus said, setting his teacup aside, “Although, I am curious. You died, but… here you are.” 

“That’s right,” Nott said, perking up like she had remembered something, “Mr. Clay turned you into mulch for flowers.” 

“I wonder…” Caduceus began. 

“He did have a little fungus on his horns,” Yasha said, reaching up to play with Molly’s somewhat damp hair. 

“Maybe being turned into mulch was why it took so long for him to come back!” Nott offered as an explanation. 

“I think the real question is:,” Caleb said, “How was he revived without magic?” 

“Maybe it was magic,” Jester offered, “Maybe it was the same magic that woke Molly up the first time?" 

“But, Lucien died the first time,” Fjord said skeptically, “This time, Molly just came back.” 

Jester nodded. “Right! Maybe, it was a head wound that killed Lucien before and that’s why Molly had amnesia when he woke up.” 

Beau frowned, her hand still on Molly’s knee, “So… What? He just can’t die?” 

Caduceus, who had been deep in thought, distractedly chimed in, “…Did the garden seem wilted last time I was there? It didn’t seem wilted.” 

“Can we…?” Molly asked, his back tensing up as the conversation continued without him. “Can we just not talk about that? I’d rather not think about it.” 

“Oh!” Jester reached out for his hand. She was too far away to touch him and, as she leaned forward, wiggled her fingers to entice him to meet her in the middle. Molly obliged, leaning forward and grasping her hand, balancing on Yasha’s lap, careful not to drop his teacup. “We’ll absolutely stop if it makes you uncomfortable, Molly. Anything you want.” 

“Anything?” Mollymauk asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Anything!” Jester confirmed. 

“I’d love another hug.” 

Jester beamed and rose to her feet. She rushed to Mollymauk’s side and squeezed him tightly. Molly hugged her back, desperate for contact and warmth. 

“You have to tell me what you lot have been up to,” Molly said when Jester pulled back. “I’m a little behind.” 

“Oh my gosh,” Jester spun on her heels and searched the bookshelf across the room. “Oh gosh, where are my sketchbooks, Caleb? Why do you have so many books?” 

“There's way more in the library,” Beau told Molly, sending Caleb a look, seemingly to tell him he had too many. Caleb sent another look back, continuing a silent conversation Molly couldn’t read, before Caleb turned back to tell Jester where to look. 

Jester pulled four journals from the bookshelf and sat back down in her chair. She opened the first one, the only journal Molly recognized, now worn and slightly damaged. “Okay,” she sighed and she flipped through it.

“Are we going to get pictures with this story?” Nott asked. 

“Of course!” Jester confirmed and stopped flipping pages. She looked up at the group, “Where should I start?” 

“Start from the beginning,” Molly said, leaning back against Yasha’s side, “I wanna hear the whole story.” 

"I can do that,” Jester said, flipping back through her journal. 

“This is going to be a long story,” Caleb sighed, his smile reaching his eyes. Mollymauk had never seen him so… happy. It looked good on him. 

Jester cleared her throat and began her story, “So, we all met at the Leaky Tap and went to one of the best circuses I’d ever seen. Nothing has topped it yet. I was really glad such a handsome tiefling and their really buff friend, Yasha, walked in to give us that flyer.” 

Mollymauk sat back and listened. 

\--- 

Jester paused in her retelling of their last two years when Fjord nudged her. She glanced up and finally noticed Molly leaning heavily into Yasha, his eyes closed and body relaxed. “Oh, he’s asleep,” she stage-whispered, defeating the purpose of a whisper. 

“…He’s breathing, right?” Nott asked, slightly twitchy with anxiety as she stared at Molly’s chest, trying to see it move. 

Yasha nodded as she listened to Molly quietly snore in her ear. “He’s okay.” 

“Uh,” Caleb managed to get out before jumping out of his seat and grabbing for the teacup that was slipping from Mollymauk’s fingers. He placed the empty cup on the table and sat back down. 

“Shit. Nice catch, Caleb,” Beau said, surprised she hadn’t seen the cup slipping. 

“…So,” Fjord began, rubbing the back of his neck, “What do we do now?” 

“We let him sleep,” Caleb said, “and I think up a room for him.” 

"I don’t think he’ll want to sleep alone, right now. He needs us,” Yasha said, running her fingers through Molly’s hair before kissing the crown of his head. “He can sleep in my room.” 

“I think,” Caduceus said after a quiet moment of thought while watching Molly sleep, “he feels like he doesn’t know who you all are. You all must seem very different. I can only imagine what he thinks of me.” 

“We can fix that. We’ll ask him what he wants to do when he wakes up,” Jester said, “We’ll go shopping and get some pretty things to put on his horns. We’ll talk a bunch.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Fjord said with a nod. 

“You have to come too, Fjord." 

“I…” Fjord chuckled. He was willing to be dragged along if it was for Molly, “Yeah, okay.” 

Yasha slowly pulled Molly into her arms, careful not to jostle him too much. His head rolled onto her shoulder as she stood up. He muttered in his sleep but didn’t wake up. “He’s exhausted,” she said, stepping around the chairs to find her way to the door. 

“It’s funny,” Beau said, her hand finding Mollymauk’s tarot cards in her pocket, “It figures he’d wake up _after_ we dealt with all that crazy shit.” 

“He had a pretty convenient excuse,” Caleb said. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Jester. You can understand why I was skeptical.” 

“I do,” Jester said honestly. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. 

The previous night, she had stayed up late and decided to use the last of her energy to talk to Molly. It was comforting to send him a message occasionally, even if he wouldn’t hear it. She never expected to hear his voice respond and she never did, until last night. Molly had sounded so scared and lost. Jester had panicked when she realized she couldn’t cast the spell again. 

She’d run to Caleb’s room first, his knowledge of magic a good reason to speak with him. Jester hadn’t really thought about that though. She had gone to whoever was closest. 

Caleb had been fast asleep when Jester had banged on his bedroom door. Frantic, she explained that she’d heard Molly’s voice, that he’d responded to her. Caleb had tried to calm her down, quietly explaining that what she’d heard was just a dream and that she’d had similar dreams before. 

“No, NO!” she’d cried, “I haven’t slept yet. I was awake. It was Molly.” 

Caleb had been more inclined to believe her then, or at least allow her to continue to believe it. He told her they’d tell the others in the morning after they’d both had a good night’s sleep and enough energy to properly cast spells. 

The next morning, they’d done just that. The others had been just as startled as Jester and had fought over what to do for an hour. The voice could have been Molly’s, but it could have been Lucien’s, a major concern for those who’d known Molly, or undead, the only concern for Caduceus. Amongst the loud chatter, Jester just decided to cast Sending again. 

It had been Molly. He’d come back to life and he was coming home. Freaking out had seemed like a fairly good option. 

“I wish we’d known sooner,” Caleb admitted, “We should have been there when he woke up.” 

“But he’s here now,” Beau said, staring at the door Yasha had walked through, desperately wanting to follow. “We’ll make it up to him.” 

The first thing on the agenda was making sure Mollymauk didn’t have to wake up alone again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know there have probably been a ton of these ‘Molly rises from the grave and finds his friends’ fics, but I wanted to share my take on it. I saw a post somewhere about how Matt said Molly’s past was iffy and that meant he could raise from the dead and join a fan’s campaign if we wanted and the person who posted it joked that they’d raise Molly the moment campaign 2 ended and have him join the Nein again. I thought that was funny and immediately agreed, so here’s some vague speculation about the future I want, because I just want everyone to be happy.
> 
> (Also, I want Beau and Caleb to be close friends. Maybe one day they'll both be better at giving affection.)


End file.
